The Last Black Unicorn(22)

Tiffany: “You best get the fuck out my house, before I commit murder.”

Titus: “Oh come on Tiff, that doesn’t mean anything. I was teaching her. I was teaching her.”

Tiffany: “Nah, you a fucking cheater. You a liar. Your sister was right.”

He was thinking he would take the tape from me when he came over there. HELL NO! I hid that shit, then I called the police.

Tiffany: “You best to get out of here. The police coming.”

That phrase will scare off any black guy (except Obama . . . maybe). He left so fast, he didn’t even get his clothes and shoes and other stuff he had left at my place.

Once he left, my anger subsided, and the sadness came back. I was just devastated. This hurt so much.

He kept blowing up my phone. I ignored him. Then he got his mama, his grandmama, his aunties, all these people in his family to start calling me. They laid the guilt on thick, telling me that “You destroying him. He loves you so much. He’s so depressed. He can’t function without you.”

I never told them that he cheated on me or that he made this sex tape or anything like that. I don’t know why. As much bad as he’d done to me, I just didn’t want to do that. I knew how much they put him on a pedestal. They really loved him. I didn’t want to destroy that.

But they kept bothering me about him, making me feel like it was my fault. I know he didn’t tell them about all the shit he’d done to me. Then Anna pointed out some real obvious shit that I’d missed.

Anna: “Why you lettin’ him hide his dirty shit? You should make everybody in that family fucking pay. They knew about that bitch. If the little sister knew, they ALL knew. They knew what the fuck he was doing. They knew.”

She was right. They had to know. Ain’t no way the only person in the family to know the truth is some eight-year-old girl.

I devised a plan. Oh, it was so fucking devious. It was straight-up evil . . . but that motherfucker, and his family, deserved it.

First I got about fifteen bootleg copies of that movie Charlie’s Angels. It had just come out. Anna’s boyfriend was a bootlegger, and he helped me make some . . . alterations . . . to the movie.

I made copies for all the family members who called my phone, all of them that called me and was telling me, “He love you. You’re doing him wrong.” Christmas was coming up, so I wrapped them up real nice, and I sent all fifteen copies to his family members as gifts.

Then I ate a lot of corn. A lot. And I didn’t chew it so well. And I made a different present for him.

Once it was ready, I called him.

Tiffany: “I was tripping. I love you. I can’t live without you. You’re like the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t be without you. I really want to be your girl. I just need you to stop messing with that chick.”

Titus: “I’m going to leave her alone. No problems. I wasn’t making no real money off of her anyways. Fuck the pimp life. I’m not going to live that life. I’m not doing it no more. It’s just me and you.”

I went over to his house, and I brought his shoes and other stuff back to him.

Tiffany: “Babe, we should, for our first thing together, let’s go play basketball. We should play basketball.”

Titus: “Bae! That’s what I’m talking ’bout!”

He was about to put on some regular shoes, and I stopped him.

Tiffany: “Nah, you should put on your Jordans, the ones you had at my house. You’ll be the freshest dude. You’ll be the shit on the court. You’ll be killing them out there. Put these on. If you’re my man, you’re going to be the finest dude out there.”

Titus: “All right. All right. I like this.”

He put his foot in the shoe.

Titus: “What the fuck? What’s in this shoe?”

He pulled his foot out and there was shit all over his foot.

And the shit was full of corn.

Titus: “What the fuck? Somebody shit in my shoe! Is that human shit?!? There’s corn in it!”

Tiffany: “Yeah, all the shit you put me through, NOW YOU WALKING THROUGH IT, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

I took off running out of the apartment, because I figured he might try to do something. When you ruin a black man’s shoes, you never know what’s going to happen.

But then I stopped running. I realized he wasn’t going to do anything. Besides being a coward—which he was—he was not about to track shit all through his mama’s house, right?

Once I got outside, I could hear him yelling, screaming from his balcony, being all hysterical.

Titus: “YOU A DIRTY BITCH!! YOU A NASTY, DIRTY BITCH!!”

Later that day, his mom called me.

Mom: “Why would you shit in his shoe?”

Tiffany: “I hate your son. I fucking hate him. I mean, I love him, but I hate him. He’s a fucking loser. He’s a shitty-ass motherfucker. He wanna drag me through shit? Then he can walk in it, too!”

Mom: “Girl, you fucking crazy. Something wrong with you. You have a mental problem.”

Tiffany: “I didn’t have no mental problem until I met your raggedy-ass son.”

Mom: “And he got shit all over my carpet, how am I going to clean this up?”

Obviously, that broke us up for good.

But my master plan was not over. There was one more chapter.